Acceptance and Growth
by Red September
Summary: A Tifa and Vincent piece. She could accept herself and him, and they could grow together.


_Disclaimer: _Final Fantasy 7 and all its characters are owned by Square-Enix and not by me.

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**Acceptance and Growth**

It was always easier for her to sit back and simply accept things. She could accept that she would never be soft enough, girly enough, or even _heavenly_ enough for Cloud. Simple and _down to earth_ was all that Tifa knew. Tifa who knew what it meant to run a gritty bar with drunken customers; or to try to be a foster mother to children and a support for a man she saved the world with. She never once stuck her fingers in the soft soil to grow something beautiful, but that didn't mean she never touched dirt; there were too many things _buried_. Her parents, her second family: Biggs, Wedge, Jessie, and even both her homes in Nibelheim and Sector 7.

Tifa knew she was strong because she had to be, in order to shoulder all the responsibilities she had. During the Sephiroth crisis, she not only mended wounds, but she mended minds as well. 'Yes Cloud, you are you.' 'Yes Cloud, you can do it, I believe in you'. When the world was saved, she just wanted to laugh and smile and run and jump until she couldn't stand anymore. However the world needed to recover, and there were bills to be paid and Marlene, and soon after, Denzel, to feed. However, she accepted this happily, because she had to be strong, and she never regretted that she cared so much for the well being of others.

In the back of her mind she had always wondered if it was wrong to want more happiness than what she had. She was content to raise two wonderful children, and even more content to support Cloud with his delivery service. However, was it okay for her to want Cloud to walk up and kiss her like there would be no tomorrow? Did she have the right to wish at night for a warm body and a strong arm around her waist while in bed? She would never voice this out loud though because she knew where Cloud's heart had been, and always would be. Tifa had always been a fighter, but just like the body, the heart could only take so much. In battles, attack and defense are the best strategies, but retreating was just as important in losing battles.

She always liked it when she would get visitors. Yuffie or Cid would stop in from time to time to see how she was doing. She would smile and tell them she was okay, and laugh at Yuffie's antics and smile at Cid's swearing. She had often admitted to herself that her favorite visitor was Vincent. Not so intimidating and withdrawn anymore, his visits were a nice change of routine from answering phones and getting the kids off to school. They would talk for hours while Cloud was out making deliveries. She learned that his favorite drink was a screwdriver, and that although he wore red and black, his favorite color was yellow, because he had missed the sun for thirty years. In turn, he learned that she had a small fear of heights and that she had broken her middle finger on her left hand three times, although according to her "Not from giving people the finger… you ass!".

One of her fondest memories was the day he touched her hand when she had been talking about her mother's death. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and her voice was cracking, but she wanted to tell him because he had shared so much with her. So when he put his real and _warm_ hand on top of hers, she let the tears fall. Afterwards when he had left, she cried again, because he had told her he hadn't known his mother, and because she knew that it was a big step for him to willingly touch her and share part of his past.

After weeks turned into months and his visits continued like clockwork, she knew she was becoming attracted to him. She could tell, because on the days he would visit, she would brush her hair more, and she even would even break out a bottle of her mother's perfume; something she had never used because it was the only reminder she had left. He had changed very little, he was still soft spoken and polite, and he had only touched her two more times after the first time. Once to tap her shoulder to ask if she wanted help drying while she was washing dishes, and a moment later when he brushed his hand against hers accidentally while accepting a plate from her to dry.

She liked to lay there at night and wonder if he felt attracted to her. She knew Vincent didn't miss her blushes when he commented on a new blouse, nor did she think he missed the way she smiled at him. She knew Cloud didn't miss those things either, because he would send her a small smile whenever he met her eyes while she would be conversing with Vincent. Her wondering turned into an answer the day Vincent walked in with a pot behind his back. At her raised eyebrow, he averted his eyes, and handed her a pot which had a single flower planted in it. He had went to Mount Nibel and picked her a Nibel Bellflower, because she had commented that it was her favorite sometime past.

Since then she hasn't tried to push their relationship because she has accepted that he needs time to adapt and learn to trust completely again. She wouldn't call it love quite yet, because like her flower, she knows that love needs time, patience, and nurturing to grow. She also knows that she doesn't have to be soft, girly, or _heavenly_ and she knows that Vincent likes her because she is _down to earth_. She knows they have both touched dirt and _buried_ many things, but she likes to think that they are both putting their hands in the soft soil of their relationship and growing something even more beautiful than her flower.

**End**

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AN: Thanks for reading. I read a lot of fan fiction but I'm not really much of a writer. I've only taken two English classes in college. My grammar and punctuation is probably way off, sorry for that. I realize there isn't any direct dialogue either, but I'm not so hot with that, so I'm gonna practice with that. I thought I'd just see if I could come up with a decent short story, and VinTif happens to be one of my favorite fandom couples on FFN. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. 


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